


(Not the) Ideal Life

by Andromedas_Void



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And has a chocobo who steals wallets, Gen, Prompto is homeless and a refugee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14278836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromedas_Void/pseuds/Andromedas_Void
Summary: A meteor shot across the sky, dying out quickly, as Prompto watched, eyes half lidded. He wondered how much a pop tent would cost, would he have enough spare gil if he only spent two days in a caravan instead of three? But then Trixie would get lonely, if he was sleeping in a zipped up tent. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle her nudging at the tent fabric, the insistent noises as she tried to open the zip and force her way inside.He turned and curled up under the chocobo's wing, slipping into a deep sleep.





	(Not the) Ideal Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a little oneshot fic that I had stirring in my mind for a few weeks.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Prompto let out a low whistle, fingering through the gil in the wallet. Nearly two hundred in total! His biggest find yet!

Pulling out rougly a third, he tucked the notes into his back pocket before handing the wallet back to Trixie, who clamped it gently in her beak.

“Better hurry back before they notice,” he said, patting the chocobo on her neck. “We'll be heading to Galdin Quay next. Bet you can't wait to feel that ocean breeze again.”

Trixie trilled softly, head perking up.

Stepping back, the blond stripped off his worn leather gloves and watched the firey red chocobo trot away, back out of the alley and into the sparse streets of Longwythe. 

It had been nearly two years since they'd returned to Leide and Prompto couldn't wait to finally get farther down south. The desert surrounding Longwythe and and Hammerhead was too much for his easily burnt and dry skin. He'd have to remember to pick up a new bottle of sunscreen before too long.

With the money he'd... acquired both in Longwythe and Three Valleys, he had just enough to rent out a caravan for a few days at the Quay, with gil to spare.

Prompto turned and headed out of the opposite end of the alley, hands in his pockets as he strode along the dusty sidewalk and to the closest supermarket. Although calling the shop a supermarket was being generous. It was hardly bigger than a convience store but it had the basic amenities. 

He needed to pick up some non-perishable food for the trip down south and wandered down the aisles, a small basket slung over his forearm. Finding the correct section, Prompto weighed up his limited options for dried fruit. Dried Leiden apricots or Galahd banana chips were his only two choices and neither looked too appetizing.

Dropping three packets of apricots into his basket, he figured he could add them to the trail mix he still had stored in his pack. Hopefully Galdin Quay had a better selection of fruits. What he wouldn't give for some spiced apple chips.

He tossed a couple of packets of jerky into the basket and looked around for the stores bread section.

It was miniscule. Only two types of fresh bread, white and brown – not even seeded brown bread, just your run of the mill brown – and one brand of dried breadsticks. He grabbed three boxes of breadsticks and nestled them in next to the jerky.

He had a water filter, an expensive fancy one he had saved up for three years ago, to make river water safer, but he still tossed a liter bottle of spring water ( _'straight from our secure source in the Vesperpools'_ , it claimed) into his basket and headed up to the register.

The cashier barely gave him the once over, scanning his items and ringing up the total. “That'll be twenty gil,” she said, glancing to the door as a new customer stepped inside.

Prompto gave her a nod and fished out his wallet. He handed her two ten gil notes and started bagging up his supplies, throwing a quick thanks as he walked back out of the store.

Trixie was waiting for him, head tilted in interest at the flower stall. 

He patted her on the neck before leading her away, giving the flower seller a nod in greeting. “C'mon girl, I got greens in my pack for ya,” he said softly. 

The chocobo nudged against his backpack at the words, trying to unzip the side pocket. 

“No, Trixie. You can have some later,” he scolded, pushing her beak away. She blinked down at him, head tilting again, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, okay. You can have one now and the rest for dinner. Deal?”

Trixie kwehed happily, waiting as he dropped the bag to the ground and opened the pocket he kept her food in. She stamped her feet lightly at the sight of the gyshal green but waited patiently for him to offer it to her, pinching it from his hand and eating quickly.

“Happy?” he asked, getting a content trill in reply. “Good. Now, let's see if we can get to the haven in the valley before midnight.”

–

Leiden nights were cold and dry but the stars shone brightly down on Prompto and Trixie. He was bundled up in his sleeping bag, leaning his back against the chocobo and stealing her warmth while she rested her head in his lap.

The fire was still blazing, warming his toes through both pairs of his socks and the cover and he wiggled them, slouching down further. They should be in Galdin Quay by midday, if Prompto managed to wake up and leave the haven by eight.

A meteor shot across the sky, dying out quickly, as Prompto watched, eyes half lidded. He wondered how much a pop tent would cost, would he have enough spare gil if he only spent two days in a caravan instead of three? But then Trixie would get lonely, if he was sleeping in a zipped up tent. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle her nudging at the tent fabric, the insistent noises as she tried to open the zip and force her way inside.

He turned and curled up under the chocobo's wing, slipping into a deep sleep.

–

The resort town was packed, even as summer was tapering off and autumn was just around the corner. The beach was filled with swimsuit clad bodies; sunbathing, swimming, playing beach volleyball, the whole nine yards. It made Prompto grin wide.

So many potential wallets, so much potential gil to stave off hunger and poor weather.

Maybe he'd head to Altissia if he could gather up enough gil. He shook his head at the thought. They'd definitely turn him away like the Crown City did. _”No identification, no entry,”_ the guard had said, a bored and unwavering look on his face as he shooed the blond from the line. 

It hadn't mattered that Prompto had only been thirteen at the time, the clothes on his back for someone much younger than he was and soles of his shoes barely holding on. He had Trixie at the time, the chocobo only just turning four years old but still smaller than average. She kept most people who would cause the blond harm away with her talons and puffed up feathers, angry snaps of her beak that could easily break fingers (and had on one occasion).

He remembered her getting irritable at the guard, head dropping down and feathers on her neck puffing up, warbling threateningly until he had calmed her with a hand on her back, patting gently.

Now, coming up on eleven years old, Trixie had calmed considerably. She no longer glared at strangers as if they wished to harm Prompto even when they were paying him no mind. It made it far easier for their routine to work when she wasn't stamping her feet at every passerby.

Prompto learned early on to not watch the chocobo as she worked, it only made him look suspicious and gave them more than their fair share of close calls. He took to loitering in alleys or walking the streets of the town he had been in, waiting for Trixie to show back up, a wallet in her beak and proud look in her eyes. The cycle had been going smoothly for the last three years, no hiccups or run-ins with the guards in sight and Prompto and Trixie had enough gil to feed, house, and, in Prompto's case, clothe themselves.

Prompto started down towards the caravan park on the far side of the beach. It was out of view of the lavish Mother of Pearl hotel that sat upon the water, an overpriced getaway resort for the rich and famous. While the thought of the people who stayed at a place like that made Prompto grimace, he still fancied dreams of one day staying in the top hotel, ordering room service, staring out the floor to ceiling windows at the ocean and Angelgard Island in the distance.

“Y'know your chocobo is not allowed inside the caravan, right?” the woman in the small booth asked, eyeing up the red bird who merely watched her back, head tilting side to side and blinking.

“Yes, ma'am,” Prompto nodded. “She'll be sleeping outside.”

Trixie squawked in protest, bumping her beak against Prompto's shoulder.

“You know the rules,” he said, turning to the bird. She made another softer noise and turned her attention elsewhere.

The woman tapped out something onto her computer, not looking up to the blond. “How many days will you be staying with us?”

“Three, please,” Prompto answered, pulling out his wallet.

A few more taps on the keyboard. “That'll be ninety gil.”

Prompto grimaced, looking into his wallet. Four twenty and three one gils notes stared back at him. “Better make that two days. Sorry.” He hadn't expected the price to go up quite so much from the fifteen gil he remembered two years ago.

The clerk nodded and made an adjustment to her file. “Sixty gil for two nights. You'll be in number eight, on the left side and two rows back as you enter.”

He handed over the notes reluctantly. He tried to reason with himself that it was worth it solely for the shower and real bed, not to mention roof over his head. Although he'd be moving to the nearest haven if he couldn't get any extra cash by the end of the day.

With a polite nod, Prompto took the receipt and key, heading into the small park. He heard Trixie let out a huff as she walked along side him and he sighed, shoulders dropping and head falling back. “Look, I'm sorry you can't come into the caravan but I don't want us to get kicked out of the park,” he started, pouting when Trixie kept her head turned away. “There's an awning on the outside and the weather is supposed to be clear for at least the next week,” he continued. “Don't be a such a cockatrice.”

That got the bird's attention and she warked at him, feathers ruffling.

“Okay, okay. You're not a cockatrice. That was uncalled for and I apologise,” he snickered, patting her neck. “Ya still gotta sleep outside though.”

Trixie huffed again.

The park was exactly like Prompto remembered. A dozen or so caravans in a few rows filled the fenced off area. Each had a faded, striped awning hanging off the front, a small white plastic table and two chairs underneath it, and a simple grill. Inside, the caravan was small and cramped. To the left was the tiny kitchenette with two hob stove and sink along one wall and a chipped formica table and bench along the other. The closet sized bathroom, complete with toilet and shower, thankfully with working hot water, was farther along, behind the small table; bedroom with a double bed that filled the entire space hidden behind a curtain to his right. Much of the wall space above the stove and sink was filled with cabinets.

Prompto set the key down on the table inside, backpack on the floor as he dropped to lie on the noisy bed, Trixie poking her head in. “How 'bout lunch?” he asked suddenly, sitting up quickly, boots knocking off the floor.

–

_Kweh._

Noctis looked around at the sound, twisting his body in its spot on the pier. He placed a hand on the weather worn wood, one hand still on his fishing rod. “Was that a chocobo?”

Gladio grunted, not looking up from his phone as he leaned against the small shack.

“Unless someone nearby has the noise as their ringtone, it can only be one,” Ignis answered, looking back along the pier. “However, there is no ranch nea-”

“There it is!” Noctis grinned, hopping to his feet. His rod clattered to the ground as the firey red chocobo came into view, trotting down the pier, talons clicking softly. 

He hurried over, just as Gladio pushed himself off the wall, ready to tug him back if the bird became a threat, Ignis moving closer to the prince as well. 

“Hey, there. Who's a good girl,” Noctis cooed, petting the chocobo's neck.

“How d'ya know it's a girl?” Gladio asked, watching the bird.

“Her tail feathers,” Noctis said simply, cuddling the bird's neck. When the older man gave him a look, eyebrow raised in question, he went on. “They're longer on the girls, more swoopy and shiny.”

Ignis stared at the young man before looking back to the bird, taking in her bright red-orange feathers and how they faded to a pale orange at the tips of her tail. “I see you have more interest in learning chocobo biology than how to speak to a visiting diplomat.”

Noctis hummed, chuckling as the bird nuzzled his chest.

“She's very friendly. Think she's someone's pet?” Gladio asked, stroking the chocobo on the back of her neck. “Or she got away from her rider?”

“I'm inclined to believe she's a pet. She's far too affectionate to be one of Wiz's birds,” Ignis said. He kept his distance from the bird, preferring to watch as the other two enjoyed themselves.

–

Lips bright red and fingertips sticky from the popcicle, Prompto sat upon the short stone wall, staring out at the waves and beachgoers, newly purchased sun hat shading his face from the harsh rays. 

Trixie and he had a great haul the previous day, three wallets and just over a hundred gil! Summer in the little resort town was always a good time for picking pockets, most people just assuming they spent more than they remembered, giving the missing gil no further thought.

He was waiting for the chocobo to return, having been out for nearly an hour, trying to find an easy target. There were still a number of people in the town, making Trixie's act harder; more eyes watching her movements, more people to spot her beak in a mark's pocket or purse. 

Scanning the road behind him, he finally saw the chocobo trotting along, letting small children rub – perhaps a bit too roughly – at her feathers. He winced slightly when Trixie shook her head and pushed himself up off the wall, brushing the sand from the seat of his jeans. He tossed the popcicle stick into the trash can.

The two made their way back towards the caravan park, Prompto glancing down the road before ducking into an alley. “So, what did ya get today?” he asked, slipping on a pair of gloves. Trixie dropped the wallet, a high quality black leather, into his hand. He held it up, squinting at the emblem embossed into the leather – a skull in a circle or, perhaps a strange looking bird? - but couldn't recognise it. “I think ya hit the jackpot, Trix,” he grinned.

Opening the wallet told the blond a completely different story.

“What the hell?” He turned the wallet upside down, shaking. “It's empty?” Frowning, Prompto looked back to the chocobo. 

She cocked her head to the side and nudged her beak back against the wallet.

“No, there's nothing in it,” Prompto explained, holding it open to her. She nipped at the leather, leaving a small indent when he pulled it back. He started rifling through the few cards, slipping them out just far enough to see what they were.

Bank card. Amex. MooglePlex membership card. Driver's license reading Noctis Lucis Caelum.

_Noctis Lucis Caelum?!_

Trixie squawked angrily, snapping her beak. When he curiously looked back up at her, he saw the bird's feathers ruffled and puffed, small wings spread out and quivering.

Prompto was grabbed just as he opened his mouth and roughly shoved into the brick wall beside him. He yelped, hissing as his knee smacked into the wall, right on the nerve and making it go numb. His left arm forced behind his back and up. The wallet dropped to the ground.

“Call the bird off,” a voice demanded as Trixie took a step closer. “Do it!”

“Trixie! Calm down,” he said, waving his free hand gently. The chocobo made a low noise, head dropping and talons scratching at the concrete. “It's okay. Calm down.” He winced, rough bricks scratching at his cheek and jawline, watching the bird.

She warked indignantly, snapping her beak again but she relaxed, just enough to bring herself back to her full height.

Prompto placed his free hand on the wall, attempting to give himself some leverage to throw the man off. A knee was knocked into the back of his, sending him off balance. He could feel the road rash forming on his face, that burn and sting of sand hitting the open scratches.

“I've found the pickpocket,” the voice said behind him. Prompto twisted his head, just spotting the taller man on his phone before his wrists was squeezed. “Pick us up my location.”

Trixie let out a hiss, head dropping again and eyes narrowing.

“Shh, it's okay, girl,” Prompto told her. _We were gonna get caught one day._ He let out a slow sigh, closing his eyes.

Breaks squealing had him opening his eyes again. He could hear doors shutting behind him, unable to turn his head to see the newcomers.

“This him?” a new voice asked, light and airy. 

There must have been a non-verbal confirmation from the tall man because Prompto felt the pressure letting up on his back and took in a deep breath. A shock of cold metal snapped around his still held wrist and Trixie squawked, high pitched and dangerous. His free hand was grabbed, forced down and secured by the other cuff.

He was swung around when Trixie tried to step forward again, blocking the two – three? He couldn't be sure how many had exited the car - people behind him.

“Uh uh,” the new voice scolded. “Don't wanna hurt you owner.”

Prompto made a face at the word 'owner'. He didn't own Trixie; they were friends, had been for years. He looked back to the bird, giving her a half smile. “I'll be okay. Just head back to the caravan,” he told her.

She kwehed at that, scraping her talons against the ground again, before shaking her head. She didn't move as Prompto was turned towards the alley entrance and lead away.

The car parked just at the curb was dark cherry red, expensive and new. He half expected it to be black and official looking, something befitting the royal family, or even a Galdin Quay guard car. The door was opened for him by the tall man who had found him, though he paid him no mind as a hand was placed on Prompto's head, pushing it down so as to not hit it off the door frame.

Sliding all the way over, Prompto rolled his shoulders, trying to shift his hands up his back. Sitting with them cuffed behind his back was going to be painful. “Hey, can you, like, possibly cuff my hands in front or something?” he asked, getting no response.

He let out a huff and leaned forward in the seat, propping his head on the back of the driver's seat. How he wished he was flexible enough to slip his arms under his ass like he always sees in the movies.

Trixie was at the mouth of the alley, small wings flapping irritably, when he glanced up.

–

“I told you already,” Prompto groaned, “I don't tell her who to steal from. I just let her know when our gil is running low.”

Ignis Scientia, as Prompto quickly learned, merely stared at him, face neutral but clear disbelief in his eyes.

He had returned to the room not even half an hour after they arrived at the local guard station, Prompto alone, although no longer handcuffed, the whole time. Well, as alone as he could be with the silent man standing by the door. Or maybe he had been an amazingly realistic statue, Prompto wasn't sure. He didn't seem to even breath.

“You expect me to believe you didn't target the prince.” It wasn't a question but Prompto answered anyway.

“I didn't even know he was in town!” he exclaimed, palms up on the wood table. “Or that he was even allowed outside the Crown City.”

Ignis walked up to the table, placing his hands on the surface. “Your chocobo clearly targeted the prince. It didn't even take notice of anyone else in the vicinity,” he told the blond.

“That's what she does. She distracts someone and swipes their wallet. I always have her return it in the end,” Prompto said.

“After you've taken everything from it.”

“No! I only take gil, and not even all of it,” he defended himself. He shut his mouth, teeth clicking together, when Ignis raised an eyebrow.

“Your name is Prompto Argentum, correct?” Ignis asked.

Prompto let out groan and dropped his head to the table, arms loosely draped over his legs. “Yes,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Any dietary allergies?”

That had Prompto sitting up again, confused. “What?”

“Do you have any dietary allergies?” Ignis asked again. He had moved back to the door, hand on the knob.

Prompto frowned and shook his head. Nothing more was said as Ignis took his leave. He looked over to the man by the door, head tilted slightly. “What was that about?”

Silence.

“Good talk, buddy.”

–

Five hours. That was how long Prompto assumed he had been in the little room with the table and probably-a-mannequin guard. There was no clock in the room and his watch was safely tucked away in his backpack. In the caravan. On the other side of Galdin Quay.

His head thunked back against the table, rolling from side to side.

The door clicked open and he pulled his head up, chin still resting on the table. 

It was Ignis again. And he brought... food?

The small tray was placed on the table, slid closer to the blond, who sat up abruptly, watching Ignis with a suspicious eye.

“I do hope you have no qualms with fish,” the taller man said, taking a seat across from him. He removed the lid from the tray, revealing a simply decorated plate of fried fish and potato wedges.

Prompto leaned back in his chair, head turned slightly to the side. It looked delicious but he definitely didn't trust Ignis enough to just reach out and start eating.

Ignis shifted the tray closer to the blond before placing a pale green file on the table. “Eat. I'm sure you are hungry,” he said, barely glancing up from the file.

Prompto didn't move, keeping his hands in his lap as he eyed up the plate. It really did look good. He could still see the steam rising off the fish, its batter looked crisp and flaky. One bite couldn't hurt, right? If it was poisoned or had some sort of truth serum in it – those existed, right? - a small bite shouldn't be enough to properly effect him. Right?

“Due to your... current circumstances, the prince has decided to not press charges for the theft,” Ignis started. “Instead, he wishes to offer you aid.”

“He what now?” Prompto asked, hand frozen in its tracks, mere inches from the fork. He took a few seconds to process the words before scowling. “I don't want his 'aid'. I get by just fine on my own.”

“By stealing,” Ignis pointed out.

Prompto shrugged, pulling the tray to the edge of the table. He figured he'd better eat as much as possible before he royally pissed off the man in front of him and, by extension, the prince. “If he wants to help, he can start with his own godsdamn city. Plenty of refugees there who can't even steal to feed themselves or their families,” he said, cutting into the fish and popping a large bite into his mouth, chewing quietly. Swallowing, he went on, “I'd probably be one of them if I hadn't been turned away at the gate.”

“Turned away?” Ignis asked, shuffling through the few sheets of paper in the file. 

“'No ID, no entry',” he mocked, stabbing a potato. He chewed on it thoughtfully, wondering if he should even be telling Ignis any of his life's story. “Like a refugee fleeing a country in the middle of a war has time to think about grabbing their birth certificate or passport or whatever.”

Ignis made a small noise, pen scratching as he wrote something down. “I was unaware Insomnia had such a strict entry policy. If refugees are being denied access to the city for something as inconsequential as lack of identification, then that will have to be brought up with the King.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Prompto snorted, cutting another large bite off the fish. It really was good, moist on the inside and flaky on the outside. And the potatoes had just the right amount of seasoning on them. He wondered if Ignis had bought the meal from the Mother of Pearl, it seemed like something they would serve.

The door clicked open just as Prompto popped another piece of fish in his mouth, fork still between his lips. His eyes flicked up, expecting to see a guard or some royal official. Instead he saw a young man, dark hair in his face, partially obscuring his eyes.

“Highness, you're supposed to be waiting with Gladio-”

“What can I do?” the young man, _Prince Noctis_ , asked, hands slamming onto the tabletop, rattling the tray.

Prompto jumped up at the motion, chair scraping across the floor. He held the fork out as if it would protect him.

He watched as the not-a-mannequin guard stepped forward, as Ignis held his arm out, halting the man, as the prince stared at him, leaning on the table.

“Uh...”

“What can I do to help people in my city, my country?” Noctis asked again. “You've lived the same kind of life as other refugees, you know their struggles. What can I do?”

Prompto lowered his hand, fork still held tight. “F-first off, not every refugee has the same life,” he said. “And second...” He saw the prince nod, waiting. “Um... see what kind of help the refugees in Insomnia need? Like, what kind of shelters are around, what kind of funding they get?”

“Funding?” Noctis turned to look back to Ignis, who was writing again.

“I don't know, dude-uh, Your Highness,” he corrected. “I just take care of myself and Trixie. He looks smart,” he pointed to Ignis, who raised his eyebrow minutely, “he can probably come up with some ideas that'd be way better than mine.”

There seemed to be a silent conversation that the blond wasn't privy to. Biting his lip, he looked back down to the meal still half eaten on the table “If... if you're not pressing charges,” he stared, getting the two men's attention again, “can I leave?”

–

“Trixie, give it here,” Cidney warned. 

Prompto glanced out of the small office, spotting the woman holding her hand out towards the chocobo. The bird had a small wrench clutched in her beak, one foot in the air as if she meant to run. Tilting her head down, she dropped the tool into Cidney's hand and got a few pats on the head.

“Now, ya need to stop stealin' my tools. I need them for work,” the woman chuckled. “Ya should know that by now.”

Prompto shook his head, smiling. It had been just over a year since the pair last had to steal to survive and Trixie was still in the habit of taking items from people. The mechanics at Hammerhead in particular were her favorite targets. Every other week, Trixie would be swiping a wrench or receipt book or the keys to a car in the garage.

He watched the mechanic turn and head for the office, slipping a small notepad from the back pocket of her coveralls.

“Hey, sunshine. I'm gonna need ya to make an order for us,” she said, stepping into the room.

“Sure thing.” Accepting the slip of paper she held out, Prompto opened a new tab on the computer.

His life wasn't exactly glamorous after his run in with the Prince of Lucis, but it was miles better. He had been reluctant to take the small card Ignis had offered him when he had been finally released from the guard station, wanting to stand by his statement of not needing help, but the opportunity for a real job had been too great to pass up.

So, him and Trixie had made their way back north, to Hammerhead. It had been hard to convince the head mechanic Cid that he was telling the truth about the prince's adviser but he managed and now... Now he was sat behind a desk for ten hours a day. Eight in the morning to six in the evening. Filling out paperwork and ordering parts and setting up appointments. Cid had refused to let him deal with payments which Prompto thought was fair.

He filled out the online order form with the list Cidney had provided when he heard her speaking again. He didn't focus on the words, the woman too far away from the door to properly hear, and clicked back to the news site he had been reading.

“Prom?” Cidney called from the doorway. “Ya got a visitor.”

“Huh?” He looked up from the screen and froze, hand wavering above the mouse.

“I do hope I'm not disturbing you at work,” Ignis said, moving into the room. He had a small envelope clutched in his hand.

“Ah, n-no. What... what can I do for you?”

Ignis sat in the chair opposite the blond and placed the envelope on the desk. “Actually, I'm here to do something for you. It's not a charity,” he said, cutting off Prompto's protest. “It took some time and research, but I managed to acquire your personal documents from Niflheim.” The envelope was slid across the desk. “If you ever wish to move to the Crown City, you should have no problem.”

Prompto frowned at that. “What about other people without documents?”

“Work has been made to ensure no person is turned away from the Crown City.”

“Work,” Prompto repeated, staring down at the envelope.

Ignis nodded, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “The king and council, at the behest of Prince Noctis, reviewed the refugee areas of the city. They came to the agreement that it would be most beneficial to begin there in terms of helping the refugees.”

A loud yelp followed by a deep laugh filtered into the small room and Prompto sat up out of his seat, trying to peer though the door. He saw Trixie nudging her head against a young man with dark hair while a much taller man watched on. The same young man Prompto had seen in Galdin Quay. _The Prince!_

Ignis sighed, rubbing his head. “He wished to see how you were settling in at the garage,” he explained. 

“Guess he's more interested in how Trix is settling in,” Prompto laughed, sitting back down. He let out a breath, finally picking up the envelope. It was light and thin. He tore open the side carefully, sliding out the single sheet of paper. “My birth certificate?”

“That was all we could find, I'm afraid. A lot of records in Niflheim were destroyed during the war,” Ignis told him.

Prompto shrugged, stowing the paper back in the envelope. “Guess it's better than nothing. Thanks.”

Just as Ignis opened his mouth to reply, Noctis yelled out. “Hey! My wallet! Gladio, stop her!”


End file.
